recall

From the film reel in my skull I extract a memory. It flickers, alternating shades of light You are holding my hand, and Your fingers are long and cool. My feet are wet, standing on stone Tile by the poolside. The hair, the thick, curled hair That hung to my rear when I was small Is warmed by the benevolent sun. Sunlight ribbons waver over my skin . Blue water ripples gently, and I Poke my toes in; they turn pale, Submerged in the warm chlorine. Grandpa heaves my body Over his shoulder And promptly proceeds to the deep end. I protest; my limbs don't know What to do with themselves I'm a land creature, yet to find My inner mermaid. Giggling, I hit the sparkling water Reach the bottom, kick up Clumsy, buoyant, But traveling upward at The speed of light... I break the surface. Cold indoor lights hit my eyes. Chilled, sterile water clings To my face, my hands, my body. Kicking off the back wall, I carefully stow the memory, Back into the steel safe of my mind. It's been twelve years. And I cannot afford to dwell On what is no longer in existence.

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